Finally Ready
by fullmoonrisin
Summary: Mary and her family free themselves from James in the aftermath of his death.


Well, where do I start? It's been an amazing five seasons and I'm so sad to see this series end. I've enjoyed browsing the IPS fan fiction and I will continue to do so. Anyway, after a few viewings of the series finale, I felt compelled to tip my hat to a great five seasons via my writing. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! I own nothing, and I will continue to update my other IPS fic shortly. Please R & R!

"_**It's been a long day, and I'm finally ready to be here…"- Rosi Golan, Been A Long Day**_

Mary took a deep breath as she heaved the bag containing her long sought after father's ashes onto her shoulder. The child inside of her screamed in protest at what she was about to do. She didn't really know if she could accurately describe her feelings in that moment as she traversed the grounds of the horse track. It was like an out of body experience, almost. She was there, present, in the moment, but her legs became more and more like steel with each step as different parts of her heart and mind clashed.

Just a few more steps and the marshal suddenly became very aware that she had arrived on the track and her legs had ceased movement. Heaving a deep sigh, her eyes slid shut and the war that had been raging inside her on the way to the track had ceased. For the first time in as long as she could remember, Mary felt a sense of peace despite the fact that a part of her was still compelling her not to let go. In a strange way, she was reminded of the day that she'd attended the ill-fated gambler's anonymous meeting. In her mind, she went back to that memory, and the voices returned telling her to "let go of the anger." She was ready to do that now.

For all Mary knew, nothing else existed in that moment: not the noisy streets of Albuquerque, not her hectic job, and certainly not the damn hot air balloon festival. There was this complete sense of isolation; it was just her, the urn and the horse track. All she could hear was the sound of approaching hooves and the breeze as it caressed her ears. This was it: time to let go. She exhaled the breath that she'd been holding for a few short moments, opened the urn, and jumped; jumped out of her old worn down, cynical shell and into stronger skin, where she could stand on her own two feet, and rely on the support of more than just one man where she could not.

When the ashes settled and all was over and done with, the marshal felt as if she'd been reborn. She'd never taken drugs, but she imagined the kind of high that she felt now was better than anything she could've bought off the street. Smiling, she closed the urn and walked off the track. There was one more item of business to be taken care of.

"Brandi!" Mary called, closing the kitchen door and walking back into the living room to find Brandi and Jinx playing with Norah, who, for her part, was giggling madly and at their antics and kicking away at Jinx's tickling fingers.

"Oh good, you're both here." Mary commented, leaving both mother and sister confused while they watched her retreat back in to her room. Moments later, she returned bearing the worn tin carton that they all knew contained the letters from James. Jinx was the first to break her silence.

"Mary, what are you…?"

The only response she received was Mary tossing a letter into her younger daughter's lap. Looking down, Brandi saw that it was torn. This was the letter that she'd ripped in a fit of rage nearly three and a half years earlier. She was just about to question her sister's actions when she saw the match book in Mary's hand. No more words were needed between the three of them to understand what Mary's intentions were.

Brandi took the match book and struck the first match; she'd been ready to do this since the moment she laid eyes on that mocking reminder that her father never really cared about her, which is why she was both surprised and irritated when her mother stopped her just before the flame contacted the old paper.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" The question was directed at Mary, although spoken to both daughters.

"Mom, we both suffered through your fake wake…and your singing," the latter comment earned a dramatic eye roll from Jinx. "This is how I'm coping with dad's death, and you can keep your mouth shut and deal with it." Her words were slightly harsh, but lacking in any real bite. Instead, there was more of a teasing quality. She smiled briefly and turned to Brandi again. "Burn it, Squish."

Letter by letter, the remaining pieces of James Wylie Shannon were burned over glasses of wine while stories of James and childhood back in New Jersey were retold. Soon enough, all of the offending letters were gone and Mary looked on into the remnants within the fireplace.

"Goodbye, daddy."


End file.
